


General

by wigglebox



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Caught, Deepthroating, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Face-Fucking, Homophobic John Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Physical Abuse, Pre-Canon, Sad Ending, Slurs, Spoilers, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wigglebox/pseuds/wigglebox
Summary: What was meant to be a quick fling in Montana during a hunt wound up being a jailbreak.  Everything feels like a dream, and Dean only hopes he never wakes up.
Relationships: Lee Webb/Dean Winchester, Leo Webb/Dean Winchester
Comments: 67
Kudos: 180





	General

NOVEMBER, 2003 

It took forty-eight hours to transform a hundred bucks into nine thousand, and the two boys dressed in dirty jeans and flannel shirts acted as if it were a million. 

Lee had the better talent at blackjack so he helmed that table for a few hours, even having the honor of drawing the attention of the pit boss. Once he drew up a substantial amount, the hundred growing to a thousand and change, he portioned some off and gave it to Dean. 

The money grew fast at the poker table, people eyeing Dean and his appearance with suspicion. He and Lee didn’t blend in with the crowd so well at Bally’s. Dean didn’t let it affect him. He wasn’t there to impress anyone, only to make their meager amount of money grow.

For years he told his father they needed to go to Vegas to get some cold hard cash instead of running credit card scams, but the old man wouldn’t give. Too fun, Dean supposed. Either that, or he didn’t trust Dean enough to gain anything but instead blow away all their cash. 

That only happened to Dean once, but clearly, John never forgot. 

But now, Dean was free, and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

They played for the night, bolstering their winnings up to five grand combined. Bally’s treated them well. 

They spent one more night in the fleabag motel on the outskirts of the city, adding a few more questionable stains to the sheets and disrupting their neighbors. Not one care or worry passed between them, other than where they should head next after spending another day racking up coin. 

“Let’s just drive east and see what happens. Not like it matters,” Lee said, settling down under the blanket.

It didn’t matter at all, Dean agreed. They had the car, money, and each other and damn did that feel good. 

They scored double or nothing the next day at Caesars; lost only a thousand; bounced before their luck pushed too far. 

Dean and Lee rode out of town on a high, feeling like bank robbers in a heist movie. It was the most money either of them had ever seen in their life, and Lee kept checking his bag, making sure it didn’t run off. They weren’t millionaires, but they still felt like kings.

It took them longer than needed to reach Arizona, having to stop by the side of the road often otherwise one of them would crash the car just by using their mouths. They slept in the car, too scared to spend the money. They fucked in the car, uninterrupted. 

Dean felt the buzzing in his body that started in Montana weeks prior grow more and more each day. They met on accident when John called Dean out to Alberton to help with a case. John and Lee’s father took off to hunt a ghoul in Seattle, and Dean had to work the case alone with the stranger. But he didn’t remain a stranger for long. 

Lee acted like an IV, mainlining Dean with so much elation that he felt consistently drunk off it. They had traveled to several different towns in the two months together, and not one of them had a single ghost or monster waiting in the shadows. If it did, they didn’t bother trying to find it. No more hunting, no more jobs, no more fathers and expectations --

Just each other and an open road. 

The Super 8 just off I-20 had clean sheets and a fresh smell to the rooms. They could afford the higher-end down the road but decided to squirrel away as much money as possible. The motel would do just fine for a night or two.

“I’m gonna name it ‘Roadhouse’,” Lee announced, laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling while Dean finished up in the bathroom. It was the first time in three days they had access to a shower.

“A roadhouse named ‘Roadhouse’? That’s original,” Dean teased, watching Lee through the reflection in the mirror. Lee frowned and turned his head, meeting Dean’s gaze.

“It’s after the --”

“Movie, I know, but you gotta put _some_ effort into it.”

Dean slid the towel off his waist and dumped it on the floor near the shower, keeping his eyes on Lee through the mirror. The tell-tale hungry glint to the man’s eyes as they traveled the length of his body made Dean blush..

“Can I help you with something?” Dean asked, leaning on the sink, refusing to turn around. The sight he presented wasn’t new; they’ve explored each other many times in the course of eight weeks -- but Lee had a way of making every time feel like the first time. Lee deployed small touches and such an intense gaze that would make even a woman of the night blush; whispered words in a specific combination for the moment that unlocked every reaction he sought. 

People like Lee were rare in life; rarer in Dean’s. 

“You’re a smart man and that’s a stupid question.” Lee lifted himself up onto his forearms, his gaze finally returning to meet Dean’s in the mirror. 

Dean smirked, turned, and flipped off the lights. 

“So what are you going to actually name it?” he asked, heading to his bag on the chair to shove his toiletries away.

One of their first conversations during their case in Montana was what they’d do if they weren’t hunting. After a boring day of fact-finding in the town’s records, they topped the night off at Sportsman’s Bar, sitting outside on the farthest picnic table they could manage. Dean still had a neutral opinion on the guy after two days, but wanted to trust him a little more before they ventured up a mountain to kill two witches.

In the course of three hours, and after too many drinks to admit to without shame, they learned a lot more about each other. What surprised Dean was he ease in which he could talk to this stranger; usually keeping things close hold even when he got to know someone. The desire to keep things under lock and key only strengthened after his break-up the previous spring. It remained the closest thing Dean ever got to a real relationship, and everything locked up shop after that. 

Between the drinks and the talk of other hunts, they confessed their dream jobs. 

“Just wanna work on cars, really. The older the better. You?”

Lee decided long ago he wanted to open his own roadhouse. He liked the concept of community, talking to people -- he fed off their energy and found it intoxicating. He and his father lived at roadhouses when Lee first climbed aboard the ghost hunting express and fell in love with each and every one. Dean thought about his own upbringing in motels after motels, cabins after cabins, and felt a small pang of jealousy. Lee picked up on the mood shift and switched topics fast. A small gesture, but one Dean said a silent _thank you_ for. 

While in Vegas, they realized that if they literally played their cards right, maybe they could get enough money for both of them to realize their dreams. A roadhouse where Lee could let loose, and next door Dean could tinker away at mechanical toys. Free from their fathers; free from _the life_ ; free from any expectations -- it still hadn’t completely hit Dean, but he knew he’d get there eventually with some encouragement. They could do whatever they wanted, and that felt like a dangerously delicious thought.

“Well, since you shot down my original idea, then maybe --,” Lee paused, “I don’t know. I’m not that creative -- Dalton then? I want that theme.”

Dean shook his head and zipped the bag up, turning off the desk light, “Too preppy. You don’t want some priss to show up to this place thinking you’re serving them a fancy steak dinner.” 

“True,” Lee paused, “Can you come here now, please?” 

The annoyance lacing Lee’s words caused Dean to smile again. When Lee got impatient, the sex had a frantic feel to it that made everything around them dull in comparison, jacking up their hypersensitivity. When it went fast, they could get multiple rounds in a night, and Dean’s craving for that grew steadily over the past three days. The car only provided so much space for a couple of positions, and it wasn’t the most comfortable.

Dean obeyed and moved over to the bed, turning out half of the light and leaving a dim glow for them to work with. Lee sat up before Dean got closer and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled Dean in then held him still with hands gripping his hips, pressing his mouth again freshly washed skin. 

“Do you want me up there or not?” Dean asked, voice quiet as his hands automatically went up to run through Lee’s hair in response.

Lee stayed silent and pressed his forehead against Dean as he moved his hands to press against his back. They stayed together for a minute, just breathing, enjoying each other’s space. Dean kept playing with Lee’s hair, a meditative action that helped calm him down when Lee decided to get tender. 

Twice in their time together, Dean feared Lee would say it. In moments where they slowed down, where they’d go quiet and exist together in the same breath, Dean couldn’t help but tense slightly. He braced for those words, scared of what he’d say back. Everything, _everything_ , they did was new to both of them. After so long, it felt like Dean had something he could grab onto with both hands, but those three little words loomed over him. He said them only once before to someone he shared a bed with, and she ended it a week later. 

Those words placed an unneeded burden on a good thing.

But Lee never said it. He knew better. Dean knew he knew better. 

“Maybe I’ll just name it ‘Swayze’s’,” Lee mumbled against Dean before leaning back again and flashing a toothy grin. 

Dean returned the smile and patted Lee on the head, “That’s not too bad. Maybe he’ll even stop by and visit one day.”

“Oh be quiet and get on the bed.” Lee let go and scooted back, allowing room for Dean to climb on. He winced as the scratchy comforter slid across his shower-sensitive skin, too dry from the motel provided soap. The next hotel should be a small splurge if only to get decent bathing provisions. 

Before Dean could orient himself, hands returned to his body, running over his thighs, sides, and everything in between. Lee invaded Dean’s space, kissing him hard and fast, impatience manifesting itself into searing hot movement. Dean returned fire just as eager, allowing Lee to map every bend and bump on his body. It felt good to be wanted so bad. 

“You bought more yesterday, right?” Lee asked as he pulled away after a moment, only enough to speak.

“Yeah, used the card since all I had was an unbroken hundred,” Dean answered, voice barely above a whisper, “But I don’t want to use it yet.” 

Lee groaned and pushed into Dean again, causing him to lower himself down by the foot of the bed onto his forearms while matching every frenzied slip of Lee’s mouth. Dean finally slid fully onto his back before turning his head, causing them to break apart. The action only caused Lee to mouth small kisses along his jaw until he wound up at Dean’s ear. 

“I want to fuck you really,” nip, “really,” another nip, “bad.” A hand helped punctuate Lee’s statement, sliding up and down Dean’s inner thigh. They both had winter-dry sensitivity and the touch felt like fire, spreading fast and without mercy throughout Dean’s body. It took little effort on Lee’s part to get the fire going, annoyingly so. Acting on their own volition, Dean’s legs began to part, an automatic response that Lee sought.

“I want you to,” Dean breathed, turning his head back to look Lee in the eye, “But not like that.” 

The implication filtered through Lee’s mind and his eyes widened, brightened when he got the gist.

“Are you sure?” 

Dean nodded. They only did it twice before, but why not start the night off with a bang, a celebration of what they’ve accomplished in such a short amount of time? They owed themselves that. Besides -- 

Dean _really_ liked it. 

Without another word, Lee pushed himself upright and tapped on Dean’s knee. The legs flattened themselves against the bedspread at once and Lee brought himself up onto his own knees and straddled Dean, showing off the other side of the prize. 

Unable to help himself, Dean slid his hands up the back of Lee’s thighs and onto the swell of his backside, smiling when he felt the goosebumps appear under his touch. The sight was a tease for later; round two. 

“What’s gonna be the thing?” Lee asked, already starting to sound breathless and placing his hands onto the mattress.

“I’ll smack you three times,” Dean demonstrated lightly, swatting Lee’s leg next to his face, “I won’t really be able to talk, so --”

“Yeah, okay,” Lee cut Dean off, lowering himself down on the other end and angling his hips over Dean’s face. A rare perspective that made Dean’s mouth water. The whole thing remained new to both of them, Dean only trusting Lee with the action of fucking his mouth. No one else came close to fulfilling that fantasy. The sight above him sent bolts of fire down to his groin where it began to pool. 

Dean never had to say it for them to understand that while they flipped the script here and there, he liked feeling _used_ ; wanted so bad and so desperately and knowing Lee couldn’t hold back, made Dean tremble and gasp no matter how fast or slow they went. 

Before Dean could guide Lee to his mouth, he felt a tight, wet heat descend over his cock, knocking the breath out of his lungs. The urge to snap his hips up into Lee’s mouth came violently fast, but Lee preempted by holding him down at the tops of his thighs. The heat ripped into desperation, and a whine escaped Dean from deep within.

Lee worked his way down _tight tight tight_ and Dean dug his fingers into Lee’s legs, unable to move to get more and _more_. On the way back up, a tongue cupped his cock all the way to the top. Another whine of frustration sounded Dean as Lee popped off, keeping his tongue pressed against the tip as a tease. 

“Why,” Dean groaned, unable to back it up with more words as Lee continued to move his tongue around. Unable to move his hips, Dean began squirming on his back, needing to _move --_

“Because I didn’t want you biting my dick when the shock came,” Lee explained, lifting his head, “You good?” 

Dean responded with a light smack to Lee’s ass before pressing down, trying to get Lee to lower his hips. Time for their mouths to be doing better things than talking. 

While not practiced too often, Dean had a skill that almost caused Lee to completely break down the first time around. Covering his teeth and relaxing his throat, Dean guided Lee into his mouth, then further down, and further down, until Lee bottomed out. 

No gag reflex. Lee almost came on the spot that night. 

Now, third time out, Lee kept his composure better than the other times as Dean took in every inch. Next to him, Dean felt Lee’s legs begin to tremble with the angle and his slow movements, restraining from fucking the life out of Dean’s mouth right then and there. 

Lee pulled himself all the way back up, and Dean hung on with his lips to the very tip, not letting him fully leave. He wanted it. The high from Vegas and the traveling and _everything_ condensing into that one moment -- Dean wanted more. It felt like his blood got hit with a dose of electricity, causing all his nerves to fire on all cylinders.

A breathy _holy shit_ from Lee caused Dean to smirk, before taking initiative and raising his head to encompass as much of Lee’s cock as he could. He worked his tongue just like Lee did before, pressing it against the head and sliding it back and forth. _I’m good_ , it signified, _Keep going_.

Dean felt Lee place a small kiss at the juncture between thigh and groin before lifting himself up onto his forearms for balance. 

Inhale, exhale -- down Lee went, faster this time, hitting the back of Dean’s throat before pulling back up, then plunging back down, each thrust quicker than the last. Dean gripped whatever part of Lee his hands fell on and felt as his muscles strain and contract with every movement. Lee smelled like the motel soap, a bland and basic scent that otherwise would do nothing for Dean. His mouth and throat stayed slack, everything open and available, letting the heavy weight slide across his tongue and through his mouth like that’s all it was made to do -- 

Lee pulled all the way up and let Dean take a few deep breaths. A deep inhale in and a sharp exhale out had Dean back in order. He lifted his head, and caught Lee again with his mouth, pulling him in as he sucked. Lee caught his jerk just in time before shoving himself completely in without warning.

Dean’s cock laid neglected against him as Lee concentrated on moving, but Dean didn’t need any contact. With every dive back in, a new current of pleasure ran itself down to his group, pulling that invisible rubber band tighter. Dean came three times already in their time together without Lee touching him, and he banked on it happening again that night. 

Hands began exploring, wanting to touch every inch of Lee he could. Closing his eyes, Dean focused again on the muscle strain, feeling his hands moving along with the frenetic jerks up and down, in and out. As Dean let his hands fall down some, his fingers brushed over Lee’s hole, tangible by his spread legs. Dean pressed an index finger against it and circled firm enough to cause Lee to lose his rhythm. Between the heavy breathing and the white noise beginning to build in Dean’s ear, he heard a string of curse words as his finger continued to play. His own hips starting moving now, wriggling into the air looking for a release of energy. It felt so good; it all felt _so fucking good it needed to last and last and last --_

Dean opened his eyes to watch as the tip of his index finger slipped into Lee after pushing _just enough_. The other man stopped completely as a whine ripped itself out of his throat, pulling out of Dean’s mouth in order to push back against the finger. 

Round two, round two, round two -- 

For now, Dean continued to tongue the tip of Lee’s cock off and on, catching the pre-come that would otherwise fall onto his neck. He continued his hands down, pressing against Lee’s perineum. He didn’t linger, not wanting Lee to come from anything other than having his dick down Dean’s throat. That was the prize. 

Lee could only manage a quick dip down on Dean’s cock before coming back up, pressing his forehead down and keening as Dean moved his hands back up to starting position, away from everything else. It didn’t matter what he did now, nothing mattered because they were both right _there_ , right at the edge of oblivion. Lee ran his mouth over any skin in front of him, sometimes using a gentle scrape of teeth, sometimes just pressing small kisses wherever he could.

“I’m close,” Lee babbled, sounding crazed, Dean feeling his hot breath against his scorched skin, “I’m close, I’m close --” 

“Come on then,” Dean whispered before taking Lee completely back in for the third and final time. It felt natural now, and Dean’s body hummed along with Lee’s chaotic breathing; they began to blur together. He wanted to feel that orgasm pulse on his tongue, in his mouth, against his throat; he wanted it rough and dirty and out of control, Lee unable to stop himself. 

_I love you_ Dean thought wildly, encouraging more feverish thrusts from Lee with his hands pressed against his lower back, _I love you, I love you, I love you --_

In the distant part of his mind, through the piercing deafness beginning to descend on him with one foot off the edge of the cliff, Dean heard a loud noise followed by someone yelling. He thought he came, or Lee came? Who did? He didn’t feel anything. Everything dulled around him, happening in slow motion: A rush of cold air smacked Dean in the face and on the arms; Lee sunk too low and hit Dean in the face before lifting out entirely; Someone tugging on his arm to pull him back up -- 

Dean turned around on the bed, out of breath and covered in goosebumps as he felt the full blast of cold air. 

Standing in the doorway, lit only by their one little lamp, stood his father.

He found them. 

Panic shot through Dean like a bullet and he scrambled for the pillow, shielding his groin, pressing his back against the bedframe. The heat in his blood flash froze, and for the second time that night, all the air escaped from his lungs. Every nerve in Dean’s body ceased communication, sending a wave of numbness cascading down him. 

Lee had also taken a pillow for a shield, turning his back to Dean and sitting off the side of the bed, facing the closet on the opposite wall. Nobody moved. 

“Get your shit. We’re leaving,” John ordered, looking from Dean to Lee with fury plastered on his face. Before Dean could even think of a response, John grabbed the keys to the car off the desk, turned, and slammed the door behind him. 

Silence rang through the room, Dean’s heart still trying to steady itself. His brain hadn’t caught up yet. Where was he again? How long did he sit there -- 

“Dean?”

A voice to his left floated into his head, still emitting a high pitched screech -- 

“Dean -- are you okay?” 

Lee slid back onto the bed and into Dean’s line of sight. He placed his hands on Dean’s wrists, trying to move his hands off the pillow. Didn’t work. Dean’s nails dug into the fabric.

“Breathe, you have to breathe,” Lee said, moving to try and cup Dean’s face between his hands --

_No_

Dean forced himself to look away, and moved off the bed, stumbling over to his bag. He winced as his legs moved, his cock still miraculously hard, waiting for the action to pick back up. Tough shit, kid. You’re outta luck. 

His arms and legs moved on their own, knowing what needed to happen before Dean’s brain could catch up. Get dressed, get your shit, get in the car. Get dressed, get your shit, get in the car -- 

“Dean!” Lee’s shout broke through the ringing in Dean’s ears. He jumped and dropped his shirt, leaning down to pick it back up. Wait, no -- no that wasn’t his shirt, that was Lee’s shirt --

Hangs gripped his waist, causing him to jump again as they forced him to spin around. Lee’s worried face greeted him. Sad blue eyes. Very sad. Those eyes knew what was coming. The expression seemed ugly. Not good, not good at _all --_

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Dean choked out, voice thick and slow as he turned back around, reaching for the proper shirt and underwear -- which jeans were his again? 

“Why? You don’t have to go anywhere!” Lee didn’t reach for his clothing. He stood there, in Dean’s space, still bare and still half-hard and _gorgeous_ like nothing ever happened. He had to wrestle the desire to sink to his knees and finish the job; wrestle it back and lock it in the trunk where it belonged.

He did have to go. Dean had to go, that’s how it worked. If his father found him, he had to follow him into the car and out of town. Beverly’s, Nate’s, Sonny’s, that club in New York, Flagstaff -- it was a game. It was hide and seek. Dean left, tries to hide for as long as possible, hopes his father forgot or gave up, but gets captured when he least suspects it. 

Like now. 

When Dean got caught, everything came crashing down. The adventure with Lee Webb was just another round of hide and seek that would have had to end eventually. There’s no getting out. No dream life. They made their promises in Montana when they first hatched their plan to ditch their fathers, ditch hunting -- make a name for themselves on their own terms, try and stick it out with each other. The tragedy wasn’t Dean breaking his word, It was making a promise he couldn't keep in the first place.

“What happened to fuck it? Huh?” Lee asked, throwing his arms up, “You’re not a child, Dean -- tell him no! What’s he gonna do? Arrest you?”

Dean shook his head and turned, zipping up his bag, “You don’t understand.”

“No shit I don’t understand. You’re just going to walk? After all this?” Lee’s voice grew loud and Dean winced. 

The zipper caught on another shirt inside, and Dean tried to shove it back down. His hands started to shake but he kept pulling. The zipper wouldn’t budge. The bag blurred and wobbled in Dean’s vision as tears sprang up. He tugged, and tugged -- 

Lee came to his side, bent down, and took over. He knocked his hands gently against Dean’s as he tugged the fabric from the teeth. Dean sniffed, watching as a tear fell from his face and onto the canvas, and finished zipping the bag up. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, blinking fast before wiping his face with his sleeve. Heat rose to Dean’s face again as a fresh wave of sadness barreled through him, thinking about what waited for him beyond the door. He had to dry up before he stood face to face with his dad. 

Lee took Dean’s face in his hands, and Dean let him.

“You can stay here,” Lee whispered, his eyes also beginning to shine with the oncoming avalanche of sadness, “You can stay here with me.” 

Dean closed his eyes, another round of hot tears running down his cheeks, and placed his hands over Lee’s; get the tears out now. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean repeated, horrified at the shakiness of his own voice, his breath ragged and shallow. 

Lee leaned forward and pressed his lips against Dean’s cheek, then moved down to his mouth for their final goodbye. The tenderness made Dean want to scream. None of it was fair. _Nothing was fair._

“I love you.”

The words escaped Lee in a breath as he pulled away from Dean, their eyes both closed. Dean stopped breathing, pushing it all away, _having_ to push it all away otherwise more terror would wash over him. _I love you too, I love you too, I love --_

Dean leaned back in to brush his lips again Lee. He wanted to say it. The words began to claw their way up Dean’s throat, planning their escape. The thought of letting them free was enticing. Everything about Lee was enticing. A beacon of freedom Dean couldn’t stop staring at.

But no. 

Shutting his mouth, Dean turned away and backed off, pulling his bag over his shoulder. The words died just as they reached his mouth, and he swallowed hard. His whole body shook as he stared at the ground, brushing past Lee, allowing himself one final touch; one final glance by on his hand. 

Dean opened the door, stepped out into the parking lot, and didn’t look back. 

The ride out of the motel felt like someone ripped Dean in half. John abandoned the truck he had with the keys inside, most likely for Lee to take off in, and waited in the Impala, letting it idle. He said nothing as Dean slid into the passenger seat, throwing his bag into the back. 

As John backed out of the parking spot, Dean saw the curtain in the room move and looked away before he could see Lee through the glass. _Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look --_

John hit the accelerator, and they rolled out of the lot, the bright motel sign fading into the background. A rock formed in the pit of Dean’s stomach and his shaking continued.

No words passed between them, but Dean knew at some point before the end of the night, the shit would hit the fan. He stole his father’s car and ignored his calls and texts for two months, only for him to find his son in a motel room with a dick down his throat. 

Dean figured he’d have a black eye by the morning, and the longer John stayed silent as they drove out of Covington and into Atlanta, the worse Dean figured it would be. 

They stopped at a Citgo but the car didn’t need gas. 

John pulled into a parking spot at the end of the convenience store near some shrubs and a dying little tree. He killed the engine and yanked the key out of the ignition. 

“Out of the car, and lock your door,” he ordered. Dean obeyed and they both got out at the same time, Dean pushing the lock down and slamming the door a little too hard. He knew what his father was doing: _Don’t have the keys, and you can’t get in the car to hotwire it. You’re going nowhere._

John said nothing as he walked away to the entrance to the store. Dean figured he’d be buying some beer to help get him through the night and get him through screaming at his son. The cans didn’t hurt as much as the bottles, so Dean hoped the store only had cans available. 

He kept his mind steady on a tightrope, refusing to let it go backward in time. As soon as the yellow Super 8 sign popped into his memory, he switched course and concentrate on a different car that just pulled up, or the fat kid on the corner with his slushie, watching his father change a tire. Surface level shit. The bomb would drop eventually, but he wanted to make sure his father couldn’t see him break down. That’d just be more icing on the shit cake. 

A few minutes later, John walked out of the store with a bag in one hand and a six-pack in another. Dean’s heart sank when he saw the bottle necks. 

As John unlocked the car on his side and pushed the beer in, Dean’s thoughts shifted to Sam of all people, wondering what he was doing on this fine November night. How was California, Sam? Got a girl yet? How’s life in the sunshine?

“Here,” John’s voice cut through the noise in Dean’s head, throwing a bottle of something at him, “I don’t want you back into this car until you use every last drop of this.” 

A bottle of Listerine. 

It wasn’t a large one, but it wasn’t travel sized either; just large enough for Dean’s mouth to burn for the next few days. 

“Give me your phone,” he ordered. Dean tossed it to him and John flipped it open, pausing to read something on the screen before pocketing it. 

“You’ll get this back when you’ve earned it.” 

Dean nodded as he unscrewed the cap. John slid behind the wheel, popping open a bottle, unable to wait until later. Through the car window he saw John scroll through the contacts. He deleted one. 

Another wave of sadness crashed over Dean as he took his first swig. He didn’t have Lee’s number memorized. The sadness blossomed into anger as he watched his father then go through his text messages, deleting every single one from Lee. Little ones when they were out shopping, got lost at the casino, things to wake up to if the other already went to breakfast -- 

With every spit of mouthwash Dean threw into the shrubs, his anger grew: How come you didn’t go and get Sam like this; How the fuck did you find me; I hope you realize I got fucked on that seat, dad, and you’re sitting right where I came. I got fucked there three different times and sucked his dick every time he drove -- 

Each sip caused Dean’s thoughts to worsen as he erased whatever last bit of Lee remained. His mouth burned but the pain felt symbolic, and he savored it. Lee’s words echoed back to him as John turned up the radio inside the car. 

_Tell him no. Tell him no! Tell him no!_

Dean finished the bottle and threw it into the bushes as well so his father could see it. _Fuck you, I’m not going with you, I’m not going with you, you heartless son of a bitch._

John unlocked the car door from the inside, and Dean slid back into his seat without a word, the artificial argument dissipating. Everything sounded great in his head when someone else said it, but he was too much of a chicken shit to say a two-letter word to the one person who deserved it: No. 

Turned out, if Dean never used the credit card, John would have never found them. He put a tracker on it after the first week he disappeared, and Dean only used it two times before that night: St. Louis and Vegas. Both times he unknowingly managed to escape before his father came looking for him. The stupid CVS in Covington gave away the plot. 

Dean kept his mouth shut for the first ten minutes his father berated him on their way out of the city. John thankfully didn’t reach for a second bottle after finishing the first. That would be for later when they were stationary, and he had Dean trapped in a shoebox of a motel and unable to escape. 

“If any other hunter out there found out you were a queer, it’d ruin your connections, my connections, and any chance we had any doing anything --”

“Dad, I’m not --”

“You had another man’s dick down your throat, kid. Pretty fucking gay to me,” he snapped. 

“I’m not gay,” Dean countered, his come back sounding lame and pathetic.

“Keep telling yourself that. Maybe you’ll stop fucking around with other hunters and get back on track.”

“Yes sir.” Dean responded, the words coming automatic and soulless out of his mouth. No use trying anything else.

“And if you ever steal this car again, you’re gonna be in such a world that your grandfather would be needing an ice pack, you understand?” 

“Yes sir.”

“No more cases on your own. You’re staying with me until you get your priorities straight.”

“Yes sir.”

They stopped for the night just outside Chattanooga, and it went just as well as Dean expected: Shouting match; drunken comebacks; someone pushed against a wall; a fist thrown --

It was only round two of what would be a very long night. 

By the end of it, Dean started to realize that pushing Lee down and away as a small, wayward adventure would be the only option. It meant nothing, they weren’t going anywhere, and they’d probably wind up hating each other in the end anyway. That’s how all his relationships went. It was an experience that Dean didn’t need to have any more, John said. It’s out of your system. 

It was out of Dean’s system. 

The dream died. 

**Author's Note:**

> BOY oh BOY oh B O Y. Hello there. 
> 
> [photo cred pheen77 on flickr]
> 
> Before I go on: Original articles announcing the episode named the character Leo. However, on a recent website post, they named him Lee. Jeremy Adams, the writer for the episode, said they made a typo 'early on' and was too nervous to say anything. I chose to interpret that as Leo's name should actually have been Lee. As for the fic title, I know General Lee is a Confederate thing, but it's also a Dukes of Hazzard thing which some Twitter friends and I were thinking Lee and Dean would sing up on stage in 15x07. That's all speculation! (General Lee was the name of the car). It's also why they wound up in Covington, GA.
> 
> Storytime (again, I guess): When 15x07 was first announced in like, early October and we got basic plot details about an "old friend" and all that, my mind just blew at the seams. I began writing a different fic about these two, but it got really wordy and I lost my motivation for it. 
> 
> However, as we have gotten more and more promo material for 15x07, I wanted to still have a fic with them on here before the episode aired. 
> 
> This was essentially the ending to that fic I put on hold. They met in Montana during a hunt, got to know each other, and decided to try and give up the hunting life for good. But of course, good ol' John Winchester comes in and ruins /everything/. 
> 
> I essentially wanted to play with the concept of events that would lead to Dean wanting to shove that part of him down and out of sight. I imagine your father reacting to seeing that scene and treating you like that afterward is one of those things that would cause Dean to repress himself. 
> 
> So -- anyway. I know it's not Cas and I felt bad writing sexy times with someone other than him BUT, we do what we have to do. 
> 
> This was written before the episode aired (obviously), and I don't know in what capacity Lee's relationship with Dean was in the past. I also know NOTHING about his character and this was me just spitballing. 
> 
> This is probably the lengthiest end note I've done, but I felt it was necessary! 
> 
> ETA: There's a line in here I meant to mention, it's from an episode from The West Wing- "The tragedy wasn’t Dean breaking his word, It was making a promise he couldn't keep in the first place." 
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3 Jen
> 
> ETA: Jan. 5. 2021/ I updated the location to Arizona after much back and forth in my head. This pre-coda kinda... thing I was surprised to see during the episode that it could have tracked, except they were found in Arizona in the fic flashback, not Georgia (as I originally written). So yes. If you see any reference to Georgia please let me know! I would like to change it!


End file.
